I was on a high as my bare feet slapped against the frozen wintry ground and the cold invaded my body and pierced my lungs. It was as if I was being kissed by Jack Frost himself; my fingers and toes grew numb while my insides were bursting with a heat that could only be caused by Oliver's frantic shouts echoing behind me.
The sky was darkening before my eyes as I made my mad dash towards the barn. I knew he wasn't very far behind by the sound of his protests, but somehow I had the edge. My body thumped against the barn door and my hand reached out numbly for the handle.
My laugh echoed into the night sky and my breathes whooshed even harder than before. They puffed around me and swirled before dissipating into the air, only to be replaced with my next forceful exhale.
My fingers had finally found their destination when Oliver's body slammed into my own, sending us both rocking against the hard barn door.
"Blue!" My head cracked against the wood and my mind jarred. Dizziness took over me a brief second before I pressed a hand to my forehead and steadied myself.
That was certainly not what I wanted. I laughed as a small headache started at the base of my skull. "Jesus Oliver." I turned around and looked up into his shadow cast face.
He was beautiful. That was simply the only thing I could think as I gazed up into his concerned eyes.
He was so much larger than I, and the night, in combination with his bigger form, seemed to create our own little bubble. In fact, he seemed to be part of the night, his hair blending into the darkening sky behind him and his eyes an endless abyss with the slightest twinkle hidden within.
He was definitely a temptation that I wanted to divulge in. And what was stopping me?
Theodore? Maybe if we had gotten past our hatred for one another.
My past? Well, I wasn't leaving any time soon. That seemed to be the only obvious center point in my life. It was the vortex, the eye of the storm to all the problems that swirled around me. I wasn't going home.
And as Oliver's eyes darkened even more, as the space between our bodies minimized to the width of the finest strand of hair, and as his hands brushed my own away to cup my face and then my neck, I knew that I no longer gave a rats ass about getting home.
"Blue." My name was whispered as a plea. A plea for what, I'm sure he didn't even know. I had an idea, even if he wasn't aware.
"Oliver." I let my hands tighten, drawing him infinitesimally closer by the action. His hard body pressed into my softer, leaner one and I could see the restraint in his eyes, the resistance, as it weakened.
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted so much more, but I wanted him to come to me.
The seconds slipped by as his fingers slowly caressed their way down my throat and to the opening of the shirt I wore. My skin blazed with heat and I felt the urge to squirm, but still, I didn't move.
He chuckled, "Never before have I wanted to undress a woman in men's clothing." His chest vibrated against my own and, as if his laugh was infectious, I joined in. His hair fell over his face as his brow wrinkled. He watched his own hands, as if confused with his own actions, as they trailed across my skin.
It was freezing, but I had never felt warmer. I wanted more: I wanted to brush his hair from his face, knot my hands in it, and force his lips to my own. But with this stubborn asshole I knew he needed to make the decision on his own. He needed to initiate.
His touches were innocent enough, more innocent than I was used to, but they were slowly winding me up, driving me mad in a slow seductive way.
His hands reached my shoulders, his eyes still concentrated on the traitorous wisps of his own fingers across my skin.
"So soft." I made a sound in the back of my throat as his palms suddenly and quickly smoothed down my bare arms and then back up and around my shoulders to rest on my back.
His body pressed mine against the barn door as his hands dipped down to my lower back and tentatively pressed my body snugly against his. I parted my legs, making more room for him.
His eyes, which had been following his own advances, shot up to mine.
"Oliver." Now it was I who was pleading. This was torturous in its own delicious way. Never had I wanted so much more from a simple touch. The anticipation for the possibility of what came next was crashing through my body.
There seemed to be a moment of hesitation before it quickly vanished. His hands, which had been tentative before moved to my waist and pressed firmly into my hips as he jerked my body firmly against his own. A gasp left my lips as the last little space between us vanished.
"Yes." His voice was deeper, darker, and his hands were firm and sure in their movements as he brazenly dipped them into the sides of my trousers.
They were too big, my trousers, since they were made for a man and I was no such thing, so there was plenty of room for him. My skin, which was blazing, suddenly erupted in goosebumps as his fingers pressed into the sides of my butt non too gently.
Everything that was hesitant about him seemed to vanish, and everything that was holding him back was gone in the blink of an eye as he dipped his head down and harshly claimed my lips.
It was a bruising kiss, a dark kiss that took place in the darkness of the night, as if we were two forbidden lovers. Before, I had led, but now, I struggled to take charge, something I craved for.
Our lips clashed in a battle of dominance, a battle I wasn't planning on losing.
My hands tugged and pulled, while his were soft, touching places so surely but so quickly that I could never catch a full breath.
We were two different war tactics clashing together, both equally as effective and destructive to the other.
I wanted more, craved more, desperately needed more.
Even the loud shrieking sound didn't cut through our motions.
I was consumed; my hands had delved into his dark hair, constantly tugging and pulling as I tasted as much of him as I could. And my legs, which I hadn't even realized left the ground, wrapped around his waist as my back was slammed against the barn door.
"Oh, my!" A voice that was neither of ours and annoyingly familiar permitted the air. I knew the voice, but with a flick of Oliver's tongue against my own I decided that I didn't care.
"Blue!" I flinched away by the deep familiar sound of my name being reprimanded.
What the hell?
It couldn't be.
My breaths came out in harsh white clouds and Oliver, who was still captured in the moment, was laying scorching kisses down the column of my throat. I wanted to bask in the wicked deliciousness of the moment, but I couldn't.
Especially as I looked over Oliver's shoulder and my eyes instantly became locked with a hauntingly familiar deep green pair of eyes.
Those eyes only belonged to one person.
YOU ARE READING
A Captive of TimeHumor
Blue Doe is an independent, modern day women. She doesn't take no for an answer and gives the world the middle finger whenever it gets in her way. So, what happens when this self-made woman is thrown through time to a period where men hold all the c...